


The Prince and the Barbarian

by bexara



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexara/pseuds/bexara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the desert oasis of Touou, part of the vast Teiko Empire, Aomine is a Prince who wants for nothing. Yet all is not as it seems, and the one thing he has always truly desired has ever evaded his grasp. Until, that is, he meets a slave from the barbarian tribes beyond the empire named Kagami and his entire world changes forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The Principality of Touou was a shining beacon in the Teikō Empire. A desert state, with an arid, dry climate, it should have been harsh and inhospitable. However, its capital city, also called Touou, was a jewel in the otherwise barren region.

Built around a sprawling, lush oasis, it was a rich and fertile land known throughout the region for its ruby red dates and highly prized watermelon crops. Because of its unique location, Touou was also an important part of the spice and silk trade route that ran from Yōsen in the far south to Shūtoku in the north. The citizens were well-fed, well-cared for, with little to no sickness or disease or even poverty to hinder their lives. And each and every one of them believed they owed their current prosperity to one man: their Prince, Aomine Daiki.

Aomine came to power during a time when Touou was only a small, farming oasis and drought covered much of the middle part of the Teikō Empire. Barbarians from the northern steppes beyond the empire's borders and bandits from the west of Kaijō had been raiding the tiny principality for decades, and the disorganized, unarmed Touou people simply could not defend themselves. Their crops were taken, their women and children kidnapped into slavery, their spirits crushed. All of that changed when Aomine assumed the throne at the tender age of thirteen.

Born with god-like physical abilities, he single-handedly beat back a roving band of thieves who had been plaguing the city. Seeing his military prowess, men both young and old flocked to his side, and soon they were able to repel any invading army or group who threatened their land.

Once the security of his state was achieved, Aomine realized Touou needed more than high walls and military might if it was to prosper. He recruited to his side the most intelligent of scholars, merchants, and political advisors. Using his charm and silver tongue, he even persuaded men from other states to join him, as evidenced by his Grand Vizier who hailed from a noble family all the way in the Kingdom of Kaijō.

Surrounded by men of science, intellect, and commerce, Aomine was able to send emissaries to the various kingdoms, principalities, and nomadic enclaves of the empire.Trade increased and Touou's reputation blossomed. He even managed to make friends in the government of Rakuzan, capital of the empire and home to the Emperor himself.

Times were good, the harvests were plentiful, and his people were satisfied. Yet the Prince harbored no such contentment. Everything went as he wished and no one stood in his way. No one challenged him, pushed him, roused him. He became restless, searching for something more, something to ease the wretched emptiness that no amount of wine, concubines, or song could fill.

Indeed, when his cousin Imayoshi snuck into the royal harem as a prank, Aomine welcomed the excuse to weed out the women and few men in his care. The Prince simply could not keep concubines that another man had defiled, even though he, his Grand Vizier Kise, and Imayoshi all knew his cousin had done nothing more than chase the members of the harem around a bit, never laying a hand on them.

The problem was, Aomine had simply grown weary of the practice of keeping slaves, concubines, and even multiple spouses, though he had yet to take an official wife or consort. Unlike his ancestors, he wanted that one, single person who could complete him. A radical notion for Touou royalty, and some palace gossipers whispered it was because due to the nomadic blood that ran through the Prince’s veins.

After all, his mother had been a shaman of one of the wandering tribes, a monogamous society who found the polyamorous ways of the city repulsive. His father had met her while chasing bandits on Touou’s borders. They fell in love instantly, but she could not abandon her people nor could she stand to be just one of the many who received the Prince’s affections.

When she bore a son, she had a member of her clan bring the infant to the then Prince. He took one look at the baby with his dark skin and midnight eyes, so like the mother’s, and knew he could never love another child as much as he did this one he named Aomine Daiki. Rumor had it that the reason the elder Aomine never sired another child, no matter the number of concubines and wives he took, was because of the woman he had loved and lost.

Thus, the current Prince Aomine’s aversion to sharing himself with multiple partners was said to be a product of his nomadic heritage, just like this bay colored skin and dark blue eyes. Aomine didn’t care what the reason, he only knew the loneliness, aggravation, sheer boredom he felt could not be appeased by the harem his society assumed he would maintain.

Ridding himself of it alleviated one problem and yet created another. The Prince was a young, virile man of eighteen. Sex was as necessary to him as breathing. With no one left to assuage his lust, he grew testy, irritable and extremely reckless. He took his temper out on those in the palace, and then went for long rides, unaccompanied by his guards, trying to burn off the energy bottled up inside him. More than once he had returned bloodied and bruised from a sneak attack, though he was always victorious in the end.

Grand Vizier Kise became worried, frustrated, and more than a little angry at his master for putting himself in danger and disrupting the peace of the palace. When Kise’s assistant and Aomine’s best friend, Kuroko, mentioned a slave trader that had stopped in Touou with four slaves of supposed unparalleled beauty and strength, the Grand Vizier began scheming.  Unbeknownst to the Prince, Kise arranged for the slave trader to visit the palace and present his wares to Aomine, fully willing to risk his master’s wrath if even one of the slaves caught Aomine’s fancy and therefore hopefully restoring him to the happy, just, wise Prince he had once been.

What Kise didn’t know, could not know, was that this one action of his would have far reaching consequences for his Prince, his principality, and the Teikō Empire itself. All because of a particular, red-haired slave from the north named Kagami. A slave who was really not a slave at all.


	2. Chapter 1

Aomine bit back a yawn. It would be rude, even for the prince of the country, to have his mouth gape open like a fish when a troupe of scantily clad dancers were performing for his pleasure.

Not that he wasn’t pleased by the sight before him. The brunette with giant breasts on the left was definitely his type. From the sly, coquettish looks she kept throwing at him, it was clear she wouldn’t be averse to his attentions, either. Yet he just couldn’t summon the drive to call Kise over and have the Grand Vizier arrange for the girl to await him in one of the palace’s many bedrooms. Unbelievable even to himself, especially since he hadn’t engaged in sexual activity in weeks. His right hand didn’t count.

He sighed, slumping back on the plush, silken pillows behind him. The blue and gold cushions were large and elaborately embroidered with his personal crest: a raven-black panther with a crescent moon in the high on its breast. The finest craftsmen the city had to offer had made those sumptuous pillows, each one costing more than a palace servant might make in a week, and Aomine paid his people very well. However, the luxury offered no solace, no satisfaction. He was bored, bored, bored!

“My Prince, you seem disinterested in the entertainment,” a nasally yet musical voice whispered in his ear.

Turning a baleful eye on the blond next to him, Aomine grunted, “That’s because I  _am_ , Kise. And quit addressing me in such a sycophantic manner. When we sailed on the Kirisaki Daīchi Sea, chasing after those corsairs who absconded with the Blue Crown of Kaijō, you were much more informal.”

Kise Ryouta, the highest advisor in all of Touou, smiled briefly, abruptly coughing to cover it up. Aomine wasn’t fooled, however.

“Ah, but that was before I became one of your citizens, one of your servants,” the Grand Vizier stated gaily. “It would be highly inappropriate now, My Prince.”

He brushed invisible dirt off his embellished robe. Aomine eyed him darkly. The voluminous, white garment was shot through with gold, culminating in a shining panther in the middle of his chest, just like the design on the pillows. A large, golden hoop dangled from his left ear. With his flashy blond hair and ridiculously good looks, Kise appeared more like a storybook prince than the one who actually occupied the position.

Aomine grunted again at the thought and rolled his eyes, halfheartedly picking at the pomegranates in the jewel-encrusted dish at his side. “Stuff it, Kise. And where is your shadow?”

“I’m here, Your Highness,” Kuroko answered quietly, melting out of the dark corner to the right of Aomine’s dais.

In contrast to Kise’s long, ornate robe, Aomine's childhood friend was dressed lightly. Gauzy pantaloons and a short jacket, both light blue and trimmed with silver thread made up his attire. A slender torque crafted of the purest Rakuzan silver, glittering with diamonds and sapphires snaked around his left bicep. A matching headband graced his forehead, disappearing into his pale hair.

With his slim, lithe body, he could have easily fit in with the women dancing in the center of the room. Only Aomine, Kise and, of course, Kuroko himself knew what he truly was.

Officially Kuroko Tetsuya was Kise’s assistant, but in reality he was a trained assassin and bodyguard, raised from birth beside Aomine as his protector. Other than the year he had disappeared, lost when his caravan was attacked by wandering bandits, Kuroko had remained next to Aomine. Damned inconvenient when the Prince tried to sneak out to visit the busty, baker’s wife when he was sixteen, and a lifesaver when a rogue cutthroat had infiltrated Aomine’s eighteenth birthday celebration.

Aomine also knew Kise and Kuroko were an item, though the pair thought they hid their affair from him. They should know better. While he didn’t have the all-seeing eyes their emperor was rumored to possess, he bloody well knew what went on his own palace.

“Dammit, Tetsu, not you, too. When no one else can hear, I expect you both to address me like you did before I assumed this cursed throne.”

Kuroko moved beside Kise, his winter blue head barely reaching the Vizier’s shoulder. 

“Is that an order from Aomine Daiki, Fourth Crown Prince of Touou, Jewel of the Seven Deserts and Majestic Panther of the Hidden Oasis?”

Grinding his teeth at Kuroko’s long rendition of his official title, Aomine chucked a pomegranate seed at the assassin’s nose, one he deftly avoided.

“If I said it was, would you two obey?”

Kise laughed. “Then I think we would say issuing such an order would negate the very thing you want from us, wouldn’t you, Kurokocchi?”

Kuroko nodded solemnly, though his crystal blue eyes danced with laughter. “I do agree, Kise-kun. Wanting us to treat him as I did as a child and you did in your wild, carousing days and yet commanding us to do it does seem a paradox.”

“Bastards,” Aomine muttered without heat.

Chuckling again, Kise plopped down beside Aomine. “We are simply teasing you, Aominecchi. You really have been in a foul mood lately and we were just trying to cheer you up.”

While Kuroko’s adding  _kun_ and  _san_  to the end of their names was a leftover from his education at his grandfather’s knee, a very polite speech habit from the eastern isles of Teikō’s shores,  Kise’s was anything but. His predilection for tacking on  _cchi_  to the names of people he liked or respected was a product of his time with Kaijō’s sailors.

Both patterns had annoyed Aomine at first, but now he just accepted it as part of the two men closest to him in this life, two men he would actually  _trust_ with his life should the need arise.

“Then you’re doing a horrible job, Kise,” he grouched, completely ignoring the gyrating women now. “If you wanted to cheer me up, then give me your ass. Or, better yet, Tetsu show me yours.”

Gasping, Kise threw a protective arm in front of Kuroko, who still stood standing in front of them. “Surely you aren’t serious?” His burnished eyes were wide, the long lashes surrounding them almost touching his eyebrows in his shock.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Aomine waved a placating hand in Kise’s direction, “I was just joking. You know I like big boobs anyway.”

Kise relaxed, grumbling, “Well, it wasn’t very funny, Aominecchi.”

“Ah, but it isn’t just breasts you enjoy, is it, Aomine-kun?” Kuroko mused softly. “You have partaken of harder flesh from time to time. You even had a man in your harem.”

The Grand Vizier immediately went back on alert, body radiating tension, seeming like he could jump up from the cushions any moment and ferry Kuroko away from Aomine’s dastardly clutches.

“Oh stand down, Kise. Neither you nor Tetsu are my type, so your virginal butts are safe.” Aomine raised a dark eyebrow, glancing between the two. “Well, maybe not so virginal, hmm?”

The blonde’s cheeks burst into color, while Kuroko’s eyes shuttered, the only sign he was affected by Aomine’s words.

“I-I don’t know what you mean, Aominecchi,” Kise laughed weakly, gaze flying to Kuroko’s face and back to Aomine’s. “Kurokocchi is simply my—.”

“Please,” Aomine snorted, “do you think me a fool, Kise? Your  _Prince_? I knew the moment Tetsu finally gave into your stalking, whining, pathetic attempts at seduction. There is not a place my eyes and ears can’t reach in this city.”

The pair looked at each other, expressions softening as if they were remembering something known only to the two of them. Aomine gagged loudly.

“Stop making smoochy faces at each other or I swear I will send you to the barren wastes of Senshinkan to hunt for the mythical Ice Flower of Seihō.”

“B-but no one has ever made it back from such expeditions,” Kise protested.

“Exactly.” Smug satisfaction twisted Aomine’s lips. This may not be the actual entertainment he would have preferred, but it was an amusing diversion.

Kise paled, while Kuroko only sighed. “He’s teasing again, Kise-kun,” he explained patiently.

“Right, right,” Kise forced a smile, “I knew that.”

“Of course,” Aomine replied, already tired of the game. It hadn’t been much of a distraction after all.

“So, why are you here, Kise?” he asked, dropping his head back on the pillows to gaze without interest at the arches and columns that curved into the high vaulted, decorative ceiling above their heads. “Dancing women and screeching musicians usually are not your idea of a good time.”

“Ah!” Kise slapped his fist into his other palm, the light of remembrance entering his eyes. “Yes, I almost forgot. If this particular fare in front of you is not to your taste, I may have something else that will strike your fancy.”

Intrigued despite himself, Aomine sat back up. “Oh?”

“Yes, yes!” the Grand Vizier nodded enthusiastically, jumping to his feet. Clapping his hands to get the dancers and musicians attention, he bellowed out with all the authority Aomine had bestowed upon him, “Thank you very much, but His Highness no longer requires your services. Please see our purser, Wakamatsu, on your way out. He will provide you with coin for your troubles.”

The musicians immediately packed up, though the women, especially the brunette who had been directing come-hither glances at Aomine, reluctantly began trudging away.

Impatient, Kise made a shooing motion with his hands. “Off with you! The Prince has other, important matters to attend to.”

The dancers gave up and hurried after the musicians.

“And just what are these ‘important matters’ I have to see, too?” Aomine inquired dryly.

Fairly brimming with excitement, Kise nodded to one of the silent guards standing on one side of the open archway the entertainers had just exited. The guard bowed and left the room, returning shortly with several more guards and Sakurai, the Chief High Master of the Prince’s harem.

“Why is Sakurai here?” Aomine’s eyebrows drew together.

The little man heard his voice and cringed, rushing to prostrate himself before Aomine’s feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sakurai apologized rapidly. “The Grand Vizier ordered me to come, My Prince.”

“Fine, fine, just get up off the floor,” Aomine growled in irritation. “It’s an eyesore.”

Sakurai scrambled to his feet and bowed repeatedly.

“You didn’t answer me, Kise. Why is he here? Last I checked, I no longer had a harem for him to oversee.”

While Sakurai appeared deathly afraid, Kise just grinned. “Because I’m hoping to rectify that tonight. And give the rest of us a break from your horrid temper.”

The last bit was muttered  _sotto voce_ , but Aomine heard him, just as Kise intended.

“Hell, I haven’t been that bad,” Aomine argued defensively

All of his guards averted their eyes, Sakurai flinched again, and Kise and Kuroko just stared at him with identical, pitying looks.

“Camel's balls!” he swore vehemently at all of their reactions. “I’m the Prince of this whole damn place. I’m entitled to any mood I see fit to have.”

“Whatever you say,  _Your Highness_ ,” Kise responded lightly, the mocking emphasis he placed on Aomine’s title clear to all who heard it. A sound suspiciously like a giggle escaped Kuroko’s mouth, though when Aomine turned annoyed eyes on the shorter man he was as straight-faced as ever. The Prince cursed again.

“Stop harassing me and get on with it, Kise, or I really  _will_  send you to Senshinkan.”

Clearing his throat, Kise executed a courtly, beautiful bow. “As you wish, Your Highness. Please ask the trader to come in,” he turned to the guards.

Two of them vanished, only to return with more guards surrounding a dark-haired man, three heavily veiled figures and one considerably larger figure covered head to toe in a thick, black robe. All four were forced to their knees by the guards behind them.

“This is Hanamiya, my Prince. He is a trader of exotic merchandise and I asked him to bring his wares for you to examine tonight.”

“Exotic merchandise?” Aomine echoed in disgust. “Don’t you mean slaves, Kise?”

Hanamiya answered instead, moving forward and kneeling before Aomine.

“It is as you say, Your Highness, though these slaves are not like any you have ever seen before. Three are possessed of an unparalleled beauty, and one has eyes the brilliant shade of precious rubies, a color not found outside the northern steppes, far outside the Empire. The women are perfect for your harem, and the male would be a wonderful addition to your laborers. ”

His oily, almost devious voice put Aomine instantly on edge. He didn’t know why, but he cared not a whit for this slaver.

Speaking over the man’s head, he barked at Kise. “I just alleviated myself of all of my bed slaves and concubines, Grand Vizier! Now you would have me start anew?”

“You cannot continue as you have been, my Prince,” Kise carefully chose his words, hyper aware of all the interested ears in the room, especially Hanamiya. “Choose all three or just one, but pick someone , please,and put us all at ease. Though, I wasn’t aware one was a male laborer. We can send him away if you wish.”

“I don’t care,” Aomine rose. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Hanamiya,” Kise called the slaver’s name softly.

The man hurriedly stood up and went to the four, enshrouded figures. A curt nod to the guards caused them to jerk the captives to their feet and remove their concealing clothing.

The women were indeed beautiful, only one seeming afraid of her situation. The male Aomine scarcely glanced at, not wanting to add a slave laborer to his palace. With a sigh, he walked over to them.

The first girl, for really that’s all she was, had hair the color moonlight and eyes that called to mind the summer sky. Pity she was so young. He moved to the next, a voluptuous, black-haired woman with breasts even larger than the baker’s wife’s and smooth, olive skin. Yes, now  _this_  was more like it. He reached out and grabbed her breasts, testing their weight in his hands.

She didn’t even blink, but the shivering woman next to her gasped. He glanced over, and immediately looked past her, completely ensnared by fiery red eyes that blazed a hatred so fierce Aomine was surprised he wasn’t burned by it. These were the eyes Hanamiya had compared to rubies. No, they were not so cheap, reminding Aomine instead of the Touou Blood Diamond, the prized jewel of his country’s treasury.

Leaving the big bosomed woman, and ignoring the third, he moved to stand in front of the man who was staring at him so ferociously.

The slave was tall, just shy of Aomine’s own height. He was big and muscled, his flesh paler than the Prince's, lighter than Kise’s, but not quite the snowy fairness of Kuroko’s. His wild tangle of hair matched his eyes, crimson and vibrant. The lines of his face were clean, sharp and handsome.

A tingle of awareness buzzed up the Prince’s spine, much to his surprise.

Now his garments, they were unfamiliar and strange to Aomine. The people dressed lightly here in the desert, but his clothing was far too thick and heavy. The slave wore a padded jerkin and lappets, both the top and the skirt made of brown, studded leather. Wool leg bindings covered his legs, also wrapped in studded leather, and sturdy boots laced midway up his calf.

He was also gagged and shackled, fetters on his ankles and at his wrists, linked by a chain to a thick collar on his neck.

“Why is he bound like this?” Aomine asked Hanamiya, not looking away from that feral, smoldering gaze.

“This one is just a little …feisty, Your Highness,” Hanamiya murmured unconvincingly.

“All of this just for one who is only a  _little feisty_?” the Prince echoed in disbelief. “No matter, remove the gag.”

“That might not be wise, Your Highness. Not until you have tamed him.”

“You dare question  _me_?” Aomine put the full weight of his position in his voice. “Now, remove the gag. I will not ask again.”

Hanamiya bowed and hurried over behind the slave, nimbly untying the cloth biting into the red-head’s mouth.

“Tell me your name,” Aomine ordered imperiously.

The slave licked his lips, dry from the gag. When he spoke, his voice was deep, gravelly, slightly accented, and filled with menace.

“I am Kagami Taiga of Seirin,” he answered proudly, eyes unflinching as they stared into Aomine’s dark blue orbs. “Your Empire has named us Barbarians, and the truth of that designation will be yours soon enough when I feast on your filthy, still-beating heart.”

He lunged at Aomine, as far as his shackles would let him, teeth coming within a hairsbreadth of the ruler’s jugular. The guard’s drew their scimitars, ten blades pointing dangerously at the slave’s throat.

Aomine waved them away. His heart was pounding, his blood was boiling, and his loins were fair bursting with need. The slave was wild,  _untamed_  as Hanamiya had said, and he was breathtakingly beautiful to the prince. Aomine wanted him with a fervor he had never felt before.

The rush of challenge pulsed through his veins like an aphrodisiac.  _This_  was what he had been looking for, what he had been missing. A brief question of how a Barbarian from north of the Empire’s borders could speak their language so fluently passed through his mind, but he gave it no further thought. Such inquiries could wait until later, when Kagami was gentled and spent on Aomine’s pillows.

“Send the others away. I will take this one.”

“Ah, but Your Highness, surely one of these beauties is more to your liking?” the slave trader hastily gestured to the women.

Kise strode over to Aomine, Kuroko right beside him. “He’s right, My Prince. I wanted you to find a bed partner not a laborer with murder in his heart.”

Kagami glared at Kise, eyes flickering to Kuroko. Kuroko regarded him placidly in return, but some kind of invisible communication passed between them, unseen by the distracted men around them.

“I have found my bed partner, Kise. I have no need for the others.”

The Grand Vizier and the slaver continued to protest, but Aomine paid them no attention.

“Well, then Kagami Taiga of Seirin, rejoice for you have caught the eye of the ruler of Touou himself," he spread his arms wide. "A life of luxury awaits you, and all you need to do is see to my pleasure. How does that sound?”

Kagami stared at him for a moment and then spit right in the Prince’s face. Kise drew a sharp breath while the guards raised their swords yet again.

Aomine calmly wiped the spittle away and smiled, a dark, dangerous, sensual smile. “I will so enjoy taming you, Kagami of Seirin. Sakurai, take him away and prepare him.”

Sakurai hastened over, abject terror on his face. “M-may I take the guards with me?” he asked in a squeaky voice.

“Take as many as you need,” Aomine answered, but added a warning. “However, he is not to be harmed in any  way. If I see so much as a scratch on his skin, the perpetrator will be punished most severely. Am I understood?”

“Yes!” Sakurai all but screeched. They couldn’t hurt the slave but there was nothing stopping the giant from hurting  _them_! The harem master did not speak his worried thoughts aloud, instead his mind whirled with options on how to get the Barbarian ready for the Prince’s bed without anyone dying in the process.

“I will see you tonight, my red-haired sweet. And the pleasure will be all yours, I assure you.”

Kagami went a little crazy then, struggling violently against his chains. It took most of the guards to subdue him, but to a man they were careful not to injure the resisting slave. They took him away then, and he hurled insults and threats every step.

Once he was gone, Kise looked at Aomine uneasily. “Are you sure of this, Aominecchi? That man is dangerous, more dangerous than any I have ever been in contact with. I could feel it pouring off of him.

“So could I,” Aomine laughed heartily and clapped Kise on the back, “and that’s why it’s fun!”

“ _Fun?”_  Kise repeated. “How is taking your life in your own hands just to bed someone fun? I think celibacy has made our Prince a little mad, Kurokocchi.”

His assistant only nodded, gaze distant and thoughtful. Things in the palace were on course to change, whether for good or ill, Kuroko did not yet know.

TBC.

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
Kagami Taiga, known to his people as Kagami the Brave, the Light of Seirin, the Great Northern Tiger, Beloved Disciple of the Living Goddess Alexis, felt a rage unlike any he had ever experienced before. His heart seethed with it, his body vibrated with it, his soul screamed it out to the heavens. Only the blood and pain and death of his enemies could still the wrath burning like pitch inside him.

He had been betrayed, though he knew not by whom. Just a few, trusted cohorts had known of his reconnaissance mission across the Rakuzan Empire’s borders, and none of them would ever commit such treachery. On this he would swear his life.

His quest was of vital importance, and the very fate of his people rested upon it. The last few winters had been particularly harsh to the people of the frozen steppes. Food was scarce, the crops unable to bear the brutal cold. Many in his clan, and in the tribes under his clan’s protection, talked of going back to the old ways, of raiding the rich and fertile lands of the south.

The King, Kagami’s father, a few members of the Elder Council, and Kagami himself realized such ideas were a dangerous folly. The Rakuzan of today was not the broken, warring states of the past. When the child-Emperor, Akashi the First, ascended the throne twelve years previously, the Empire underwent a fundamental shift. With eyes rumored to be from the gods themselves, the young Emperor had surveyed his fractured lands and witnesses claimed to this day that those eerie, mismatched eyes caught fire.

“This shall not stand,” he proclaimed in a voice sweeter and more commanding than the heavenly messengers who used to give the Rakuzan Emperors counsel. “From this day forward, Rakuzan will be as one, each state and kingdom, each principality and tribe, will better itself, will pull itself from the ashes of petty war and strife, and will help raise Rakuzan to her rightful place in the world.”

So he said, and so it came to pass. While the sins and jealousies and darker parts of man could never be entirely subjugated, and evil still occurred, grievances still cropped up between men, between countries, Akashi was able to turn the hearts of many. Rulers attended to their own lands, and with the Emperor’s help they discovered the best path for their people, whether it involved manual labor or the scholarly pursuits. Somehow Akashi just knew what was right for each part of his Empire, even at his tender age.

Rakuzan prospered, and as with all wealthy lands, developed a superior military to protect the people and their property.

This is what Kagami, his father, and the Elders feared. Sending raiding parties into the Empire was a fool’s errand, what with the might of that powerful army waiting in the wings. Unless Seirin and the million other tribesmen of the north were prepared to band together and go to full on war, attacking was not an option. Though their expert tactics, unmatched fighting skills and near endless ferocity could lead them to victory in the end, it would come at a heavy cost to their people. After the years of famine, they needed peace and security, not war.

Once he had sought the Living Goddess’s wisdom, Kagami had persuaded his father to let him sneak into Rakuzan. His mission had been to travel the lands, seeking out towns and cities, even entire countries if possible, which might be amenable to trade with the north. His people considered this an egregious dishonor. Warriors took what they needed, and though they bartered among their own people, trade with foreigners was looked upon with disgust, was seen as weak. Yet Kagami knew the old ways of reavering were no longer feasible in this new world of massive armies, cannons and burning powder.

No, Seirin and the other tribes must adapt, must trade with the strangers who lay beyond the steppes. Their smiths were unparalleled, weapons, tools, and armor that came from them the finest the world had ever seen. Then there were the furs and hides, exotic to the southern peoples, and thus greatly prized. The tribes could trade all of this for food, if only they were not so stubborn and if only the Empire would see the northmen not as the barbaric raiders they had once been but as a people with much to contribute to the world.

Kagami had been scouting in the lower valleys of Shūtoku, close to the mouth of the Kirisaki Daīchi Sea, when he had been set upon by the slavers and one, cloaked figure who spoke with an accent that carried the lilt of his people. The tribes of the steppes were the only ones with the music of the Great Northern Wind in their voices. Treachery had befallen him.

He wasn’t able to identify the betrayer. The slavers attacked. In speed, brawn and ability, he was the superior and would have easily routed the cowards had the hooded figure not fired a crossbow wit  _caninus_ , a paralyzing poison that affected the bodies of the northern tribes but no one else. Kagami could do naught but stare helplessly as the chains were affixed to his neck, wrists and feet.

The slavers marched him south. Of the cloaked betrayer, Kagami saw no sign of him again. Eventually he was turned over to the man called Hanamiya. In wagons and ships, on land and on sea, they travelled.  Three females were added to the human cargo, though Kagami was kept separate from them.  And all the time Kagami’s anger boiled and writhed within him. Anger toward the betrayer, anger toward the slavers, anger toward the slave master, Hanamiya, and anger toward the unseen monster who would eventually purchase him.

When they reached the desert, he knew his home was far, far away. Never had he seen so much sand, never had he been so hot. His leathers were not meant for this inferno. The heat put him in a sort of trance, which is why he didn’t notice when the yellow sand became lush, green grass.

He roused only when Hanamiya’s guards came forward with a thick black cloak. Kagami tried to struggle but his shackles made it impossible. He was covered and blinded. His ears picked up the bustling sounds of a city and his nose flared as a myriad of unknown scents enveloped him.

That they were meant for the Prince of the country, none of them knew until they found themselves on their knees in the palace. When the guards removed his cloak, he had blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. He understood the foreigners, though it had been many years since he had heard this particular language, and knew what the women had been brought for. His lip had curled in disgust, his hatred reaching new levels.

Bed slaves were anathema to his people. The body was a temple, to be gifted and shared only when both parties consented. To buy it or take it by force was evil,  _barbaric_.

The first look he had of the heathen Prince took his breath. Sculpted cheekbones, arrogant jaw, perfectly proportioned nose, combined with fine, slashing eyebrows over dark blue eyes, the Prince was  _beautiful_. Even with his strange, dark skin, he was stunning. Intelligence lit his face, though his mouth held a sensual cruelty that gave Kagami pause. When he spoke, the smooth, cultured tones of his voice filled the large room. Kagami was just beginning to think he might be able to negotiate with the man, explain his plight, when the bastard lewdly grabbed the breasts of one of the women.

The spark of attraction Kagami had initially felt, he had recognized it for what it was, died an instant death. All the pent up fury and animosity he had felt on his journey here resurfaced. Visions of dancing in the pervert Prince’s entrails sped through his mind, visions that became more violent and bloody when they spoke and he realized the man meant to keep  _him_  s a bed slave.

So blinded by fury was he, Kagami scarcely noted where the little trembling man led him. His eyes did not see the magnificent mosaics, the intricately tiled floors, the gardens, domed archways or rich, ornate tapestries and statues. The architecture was so unlike the thatch-roof houses and wooden forts of his homeland and, any other time, he would have stood in awe of the majestic beauty. Now, however, all he could see was blood, the blood of his betrayer and the blood of this foreign prince who dared offer him such a grievous insult.

They came up to a set of large metal doors. Kagami did not know what lay behind them, but he suddenly felt a terrible sense of foreboding. If he walked through those doors, his life as he had lived it until now would be over. The instinct to struggle and fight was almost overwhelming, but that would surely lead to his demise.

Preferable, maybe, to the fate that awaited him. Indeed, “death before dishonor” was the code his people lived by. Yet, his pride would not allow him to take the easy way out. He must live. If not, the consequences would be grave. The people of Seirin, no the entire people of the north, would not stand for the murder of their next king. The snows of the steppes and the fertile lands of Rakuzan would run red before their vengeance was sated.

Thus, he allowed the weakling named Sakurai to escort him through those doors. When they shut behind him with a loud clang, the hollow noise carried the sound of finality with it. He was well and truly imprisoned. At least for now.

Kagami did pay attention this time. They were in some sort of wide, open space, like a courtyard. The floor, the columns, even the encasing of the tinkling fountain in the center were all made of white and blue marble. There were gardens filled with a dazzling, colorful display of flowers the likes which he had never seen. Trees of all sizes bearing strange fruit and yet more flowers were interspersed among them.

Surrounding this hedonistic display were a plethora of small domiciles, rising several stories high, marble balconies lining all sides. And, beyond, were the walls. Giant stone monstrosities that even he, with his great strength and agility, would be unable to scale.

“This way, Lord Kagami,” Sakurai gestured toward an open door way to the right.

Following, Kagami narrowed his eyes at the man. “Why do you call me ‘Lord’ when I am a mere slave?”

Uttering the words made the acid in his stomach burn, yet he needed to understand. Had they figured out his true identity? Were his people in danger from this?

Sakurai smiled widely and shook his head emphatically. “No, no, my Lord, you are no longer a slave. Prince Aomine has favored you. There are no others now in his harem. That he picked you specifically is a glorious honor. Why, you could even rise to the position of his consort should you please him enough.”

“I don’t want to please the bastard,” Kagami growled.

Sakurai wilted at his rage, nervously twisting his hands together. This close to the barbarian, he could see the smattering of scars over the man’s pale arms and legs, could make out the callouses on those large hands. The Prince’s new acquisition was no mere laborer, but a warrior. The proof was there, on his body, and in the way he walked and carried himself.

Who had ever heard of a warrior becoming a royal companion? Certainly not Sakurai, but then it was not his job to question the whims of his Prince. No, his job was to prepare Kagami for the Prince’s pleasure. Looking at the big, muscled man beside him, Sakurai swallowed. Priming this one for the Prince’s bed was surely going to be the most dangerous undertaking of his life. He wondered if it was too late to go back to his father’s watermelon farm.

Kagami’s footsteps came to a halt as something Sakurai said finally sank in. “Did you say there is no one else in this whole sinful place but me?”

“Yes. There was an unfortunate … incident some time back and the Prince cleared out his entire harem. It was most shocking.”

“And I thought you heathens prided yourself on having as many unfortunate souls as possible at your perverted beck and call.”

Bristling, Sakurai glared up at the taller man. “It is neither unfortunate nor perverted to be a royal concubine, spouse or consort. It is a privilege.”

“If it is such an honor, then why have you not applied for the position?” Kagami lifted one dark red eyebrow.

Sakurai blushed fiercely. “I-I-I am not worthy of such esteem from the Prince,” he stammered out painfully.

Kagami snorted in disgust. “You people are pitiful, with your stratified societies. The King, or in your case, the Prince, is not better than his subjects. He rules simply because someone must lead, but he should do so with the input of the people.”

Though his accent was at times hard to decipher, Kagami spoke well for a barbarian warrior. Sakuai cocked his head curiously.

“Is that how it is with your people?”

“Yes, of course,” Kagami became animated, “the King and the Council of Elders make no decisions without speaking to the people first. My fathe—.”

Kagami abruptly stopped speaking, his expression closing down completely. Sakurai was confused. For just a moment there, with his face alive and his eyes bright, the harem master had thought Kagami quite attractive. Maybe this was what the Prince had glimpsed before, what made him choose the barbarian.

He couldn’t question Kagami further because they had reached their destination. Sunlight pierced the myriad, tiny windows in the domed ceiling, reflecting off the blue tiled walls. Cushions and plush rugs and marble benches were scattered throughout the room, and several small doorways were placed along the sides.

“This is the harem bath,” Sakurai said proudly. “We have steam rooms, hot and cold showers, giant pools of warm water, and many other chambers to see to the harem’s hygiene and comfort.”

“What am I doing here?” Kagami asked.

“Why, you must be clean when you visit the Prince.”

Kagami’s voice was low and dangerous as he spoke again. “And if I refuse?”

Sakurai glanced apologetically at the guards accompanying them. “Then, I am afraid, they will force your compliance, my Lord.”

Balefully eyeing the armed men, Kagami decided this was not worth fighting over. Besides, a bath  _would_  be nice after the long journey here.

“Very well then,” he nodded curtly.

Sighing in relief, Sakurai fished the key Hanamiya had given him out of his robe. “Good, good. Let’s just get these shackles off you and we can get started.”

He was lifting his hands toward Kagami’s neck when the barbarian stopped him.

“Honor demands I tell you this: remove my chains and you will die."

Kagami was most likely ruining a prime chance for escape. If his bonds were removed, not only could he subdue Sakurai, but it would not be hard to wrest a sword from one of the guards and defeat them. Though they were big, he could tell it was mostly soft flesh, not muscle. They would be unable to stop him.

But, there was no honor in killing someone as weak and feeble as Sakurai. The man was but a servant and could not help the life he was born into.

Sakurai looked up in surprise. He met Kagami’s crimson gaze and he saw it, saw his death in those burning eyes. Unconsciously, he took a step back, hand to his throat.  _The Prince will not be able to handle this one_ , he thought anxiously and prayed to the Great Basket Weaver that his Prince’s strange impulse would not come back to haunt them all.

“Then I am afraid I must cut your clothing off,” he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So be it.” Kagami looked straight ahead, jaw clenched tightly.

Pulling a small but sharp knife from his sleeve, Sakurai moved forward again. With the utmost care, he began cutting away the odd leather clothing Kagami wore. He took his master’s words to heart and made sure his knife never came in contact with the warrior’s skin.

Once he was done, he stood back and blinked.

Clothed, Kagami had been imposing. Naked, he was magnificent. His skin was fair, and though there were more scars visible, they did not detract from his masculine beauty. He was brawny, but not bulky. Sleek shoulders gave way to a well-defined chest and abs. His arms and legs rippled with muscles. Sakurai flushed when his eyes fell on Kagami’s shaft. Long and thick, it was nestled in a bed of bright red curls. The Prince would have no objections there. Though those curls would have to go, as would the rest of the fine red hair that covered Kagami’s body.

The shackles were a problem, he noted with a sharp eye. Not only would it be difficult to bathe the man, but there would be no way to dress him with those chains running from his feet to his neck. Sakurai came to a decision. He clapped his hands, and several servants appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He whispered in one’s ear and she hurried away. Turning to another, he made a request. The servant went into one of the adjoining rooms and came back with a large, blue towel.

Sakruai took it. Moving back to Kagami, he wrapped the soft cloth around the barbarian’s waist, covering his lower body.

“I took the liberty of asking for some food and drink for you,” he murmured as he finished. “The bath is quite hot and if you go in on an empty stomach, you could become dizzy.”

At them mention of food, Kagami’s stomach obligingly grumbled. The salve trader had fed them, but not the amount Kagami was accustomed to. He had stayed hungry for much of the trip.

The first serving girl returned with a silver platter and goblet. The platter was filled with fruits and cheese and little pieces of meat. Kagami practically salivated at the sight. Sakurai motioned him to one of the benches. He shuffled over, the clanging sound of the chain echoing loudly in the room.

“Do you need assistance eating?” Sakurai sat down and inquired after he bid the servant to place the cup and the food on the bench beside Kagami.

“I can damn well feed myself,” Kagami grunted, although it was much easier said than done.

With his wrists bound together and the chain leading to his neck limiting his movement, it was decidedly awkward picking the little pieces of food off the tray and putting them in his mouth. He someone managed, however, and was soon wolfing down the tasty morsels.

Sakurai watched him with bemusement. He had never seen someone eat with such relish, with such a look of happiness on his face. While his manners were in need of polishing, even though he was shackled there was no need to get crumbs all over his face, Kagami seemed almost childlike in his enjoyment of the meal. Another fascinating discovery.

Finishing the last bit of cheese, Kagami grabbed the goblet and drank down its contents in one, large gulp. Satisfied, Sakurai had the servant take the tray and cup away.

“Alright,” Sakurai rose briskly, “let’s move to the bathing pool.”

Kagami stood as well, and then stumbled. Sakurai hastened to catch him, and nearly got himself squashed in the processed.

“Help,” he squeaked to the guards as Kagami tilted them both dangerously toward the floor.

The guards leaped toward them, wrestling Kagami back into a standing position. Smoothing his robe down, Sakurai observed the red-head closely. His eyes were unfocused and his head lolled drunkenly to the side. Good. The anesthetic powder was working.

Though drugging a member of the harem was abhorrent to him, in this case Sakurai felt he had no choice. They needed to bathe and dress Kagami without fear of a physical altercation. This was the only way he could think to do it. The powder was one the surgeons used to make their patients compliant, and thus was completely safe, but Sakurai wondered nervously if he had ordered too much put in the food when Kagami tripped again, almost took four guards with him, and then giggled over the near catastrophe.

“Well, that would have hurt, wouldn’t it?” Kagami laughed. He said something else, but it was in his native tongue so Sakurai could not understand it.

Sighing, he snapped his fingers at the guards. “Bring him. We need to get him bathed, groomed, and dressed before the anesthetic wears off.”

Under the influence of the drug, Kagami was as malleable as clay. Though he had the vague notion that something was wrong, he couldn’t quite swim up through the fog blurring his mind to determine what it was. And that was perfectly okay with him, because he felt  _fiiiiine_  the moment. The bath was hot and steamy, easing the aches on his body, and creating only a slight burning sensation where the shackles had rubbed his ankles, wrists and neck raw. He was so out of it, he didn’t even realize the shackles had been removed at all.

The servants scrubbed and washed every square inch of his body, and he let them, not protesting when they thoroughly cleansed his shaft, balls, and even the inside of his anus.

Everything seemed to happening as if in a dream. When they led him out of the bath to a large marble table, he meekly followed. The depilatory substance they spread over his arms, legs and chest tickled, and he laughed again. He winced when it was removed, but the pain was distant, barely registering. Kagami did make a noise when the same procedure was done to his pubic hair for the hurt penetrated his clouded mind, but it was over almost immediately and the discomfort soon faded from his memory.

He stayed docile as he was massaged with scented oils. Indeed, he almost drifted off to sleep from the sensual pleasure of the servants rubbing his body. The expression on his face was languid, a small, dreamy smile on his lips. Sakurai wondered if this is how Kagami would look after making love, and then quickly shook his head to clear it. He had no business having such thoughts about his Prince’s companion.

Once Kagami was perfumed, Sakurai had the servants apply a light coating of cosmetics to his face. Just a little bit of kohl around the eyes to enhance their natural, cat-like slantedness. A tiny hint of color was added to his cheeks and a balm was smoothed over his lips. Kagami sat quiet through the whole process, gaze faraway. Sakurai again felt a prick of conscience at the man’s vacant look, but hurriedly thrust it aside. He did what had to be done, that’s all there was to it.

While Sakurai had been getting Kagami’s body ready, he had ordered the royal seamstress to prepare clothing for Kagami. Due to his great height and musculature, the only clothes in the entire palace that would fit him were those belonging to the Prince. Until his own clothing could be procured, they had no choice but to adorn him in the Prince’s garments. Luckily for them, there were several outfits completed that had not been presented to the Prince yet. No one but Sakurai and the seamstress would know Kagami’s clothing had been meant for their master.

The seamstress had chosen well, Sakurai noted, running a critical eye over Kagami once he was dressed. Though Prince Aomine preferred blue, he did wear other colors on occasion. This outfit was carmine, a deep red that complimented Kagami’s fair skin and vibrant hair. The vest and pantaloons were made of the finest silk, shot through with gold. The vest was trimmed with crushed velvet and sparkling rubies, as were the satin slippers on his feet. A golden band, also encrusted with red jewels, was set on his head and a matching ear cuff was placed on his right ear.

Kagami looked gorgeous, almost regal, as if he were born to wear this sort of finery, and the unease Sakurai felt earlier returned with a vengeance. Who was this barbarian? He was no mere warrior, of that Sakurai was now sure. His speech and attitude revealed that much.

A running servant shook him out of his disturbing thoughts, “Pardon me, Chief Harem Master Sakurai, but the Prince has demanded the new concubine be brought to his chambers immediately.”

Sakurai’s eyes widened. Kagami was not supposed to go to the Prince until nightfall. The drug was still in full effect. Cursing, he had the guards replace the shackles and hoped his Prince would be lenient when he discovered Kagami’s condition.

***

Aomine paced his private chambers impatiently. His silent guards watched him curiously, but he paid them no mind. Rather, he didn’t see them at all, their presence something he had lived with since his birth.

Excitement danced through his veins. He couldn’t wait to see his red-headed barbarian again, to stare into those gorgeous eyes that had spit fire at him. No one had ever looked at him like that. His enemies showed fear and greed. His people gave him respect and admiration. His lovers offered affection and desire. That fury, that passion he had seen on Kagami’s handsome face was new, new and glorious.

He wouldn’t be able to simply take what he wanted from his new concubine. No, he would have to fight and struggle for every inch of ground with Kagami, and Aomine wouldn’t have it any other way. His dark eyes gleamed expectantly and he had to refrain from rubbing his hands together in glee.

Mad, Kise had called him when they had been alone, and mad he may be. What sane ruler would want to bed someone who would just as easily slit his throat given the chance? Ah, but that is what made it so exhilarating.

There was a knock at his door. Aomine forced himself to calmly sit down on the large bed in the center of his room.

“Come,” he ordered imperiously, all the while his heart was pounding with anticipation.

Sakurai entered first, head bowed respectfully. Two guards followed. When they moved, Aomine got his first sight of Kagami and his breath stole clean away. He didn’t even notice the remaining guards that came in after. His eyes were solely on his beautiful barbarian, and what a sight he was! Dressed in red silk that shimmered with his every movement, it was like Kagami was clothed in flames, a fitting attire for one so hot-blooded. Kagami was handsome, far more attractive than Aomine had realized, garbed in that thick, northern clothing he had been wearing.

Aomine noticed something else, and his eyes narrowed. “Why is he still in chains?”

If possible, Sakurai bowed even lower, so low his head nearly touched the ground. “I apologize, my Prince, but he said he would  _kill_  us should we free him. I felt it prudent to keep him shackled for the time being.”

“I see,” Aomine murmured, resisting the urge to laugh. Perhaps he was insane after all, because the thought of his little barbarian calmly threatening not just Sakurai but at least ten palace guards amused him greatly.

He walked up to Kagami and lifted an eyebrow. “Is this true? Did you threaten violence against the Chief High Master of my harem?”

Kagami looked at him quizzically, and then broke into a wide, lopsided grin. “You have blue hair.”

His words were slurred, his eyes clouded and dim. Anger, hot and swift, washed over Aomine. Slashing out his arm, he jerked Sakurai up, leaving the smaller man dangling helplessly above the floor.

“What is wrong with him?”

“ _Eeep!_ ” Sakurai looked into his Prince’s eyes and almost fainted. “It, it was the only way, Your Highness. We couldn’t bathe or clothe him with the fetters on. It’s just an anesthetic. I swear! The effects will wear off soon.”

Aomine dropped Sakurai, and the harem master fell hard on his ass. “Dammit, Sakurai! How am I supposed to enjoy myself when he’s like  _that_?” He waved an angry hand in Kagami’s direction.

Scrambling to his feet, Sakurai bowed again. “Ah, if I may say, Your Highness, the barbarian is certain to be more  _pliant_  right now. Should you not take advantage of it?”

Sakurai’s voice was timid and a tiny bit fearful, but his words gave Aomine pause. Yes, it would be so easy to— _no!_  Aomine shook his head, disgusted with himself. He did not want Kagami drugged and unaware, he wanted that fighting spirit, that passion, that  _challenge_.

“That is not an option,” he told Sakurai dismissively before sighing loudly. “Never mind. Remove those shackles and bind him to my bed instead.”

It was known throughout the palace that the Prince enjoyed certain … bedroom games which many civilized folk might find distasteful. There were rings at the head and foot of his bed, rings used to bind his bedmates for those activities. Keeping his face carefully blank, Sakurai had the guards bring Kagami over. The barbarian was more or less asleep on his feet now, so it was quite easy to get him out of one set of fetters and into another.

“Leave me,” Aomine commanded when they were through, not bothering to glance in Sakurai’s direction again.

Relieved, Sakurai scurried away, thankful he didn’t have to experience his Prince’s wrath after all.

Looking down at Kagami sprawled out on his bed, bound and dressed for his pleasure, Aomine cursed his conscience. Adjusting the swollen bulge in his trousers, he padded over to the plump, satin cushions in the corner of his room and plopped down. He stared broodingly at his bed and its occupant, knowing he was going to be in for a long, painful, frustrated night. Dawn, and with it Kagami’s seduction, could not come soon enough for him.

TBC.

 

 


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. Been really, really sick. Still not 100%, but I'm trying to get better and work on my various fics. Thanks for your patience.

After a long, boring, absolutely tortuous vigil, Aomine had finally given in to the need for sleep. He’d shed his clothes and crawled into the warm, welcoming softness of his bed. Throwing a possessive arm over the man snoring lightly beside him, he had snuggled close and drifted off to slumber, visions of passion and heat and long, pale limbs filling his dreams.

He was eventually roused by a low, pained groan. Cracking his eyes open, he was met by the sight of moist, parted lips. Mind befuddled by sleep, he leaned over, capturing the lush mouth in a slow, languid kiss. For one, glorious moment, his bed companion returned the kiss, but it didn’t last long. Aomine went from ecstasy to agony in a single second as the man beneath him sank his teeth into the Prince’s bottom lip.

Fully awake now, as was one specific part of his body, he jerked back and lifted a hand to his throbbing mouth. His fingers came away bloody. His ever observant guards saw the blood and reacted. The hiss of steal sliding from its sheath was the only warning before two scimitars were pointed at Kagami’s throat.

Glancing down, Aomine looked into hot, angry eyes. Fire shot from those crimson orbs and he felt it burn his body, settling firmly in his groin. Flicking his gaze to Kagami’s mouth, he couldn’t help but stare. A ruby red drop of blood  _his_  lood, was trembling there. His hand rose, one large thumb smearing the blood over Kagami’s lip while he waved the guards back to their post.

“My, what a little hellcat you are,” he mused in a voice rough and deep from sleep.

Kagami glared at him, pursing his mouth in an all too familiar motion.

Moving his thumb to cover both lips, Aomine shook his head. “I let it pass once. Spit at me again and I will not be so forgiving.”

“I neither need nor want your forgiveness,” Kagami snarled and violently pulled at the chains binding him to the bed.

With a sigh, Aomine traced his fingers over the red-head’s chin, and down his throat. He pushed the edges of the soft vest aside, revealing a wide, muscular chest.

“Oh but you do, indeed, need my forgiveness, little hellcat. Everything in this room, this palace, this entire country belongs to me. Even you. I am your master and I can be as harsh,” his fingers found one of Kagami’s nipples and twisted hard, pulling a pained gasp from the other man’s mouth before he slammed his teeth together, cutting the sound off, “or as kind as you allow me to be.”

Aomine’s hand gentled, massaging the tiny bud he had just abused, rolling and plumping it between his thumb and forefinger until it was stiff and blushing.

A different kind of fire smoldered in Kagami’s eyes as Aomine continued to toy with his chest, but his face remained hard and impassive.

“The people of the north are as free as the icy wind that blows across the steppes. We,ave no master.”

Aomine chuckled, entertained and incredibly aroused by Kagami’s defiance.

“Oh, it will be fun taming you,” was his sensuous, husky reply to the other man’s declaration.

He eased his body closer, until his hips pressed firmly into Kagami’s leg, letting the barbarian feel his arousal, letting their scents mix together.

Kagami blinked and tried to pull away, but there was nowhere for him to go, chained as he was.

“You will never tame m—,” he tried to argue, but his belly chose that moment make its discontent known.

Smoothing his hand down Kagami’s abdomen, Aomine let it come to rest on that firm, toned stomach.  It rumbled again and he smiled widely.

“Would you eat breakfast with me, little hellcat?”

Hesitation passed through Kagami’s eyes. “The last time I was offered food, your man drugged me. How else could I be here, in your bed, in these feminine clothes, without remembering?”

Affronted, Aomine’s head snapped back. “Those are not woman’s attire. I have several outfits just like it.”

“And thus my point is made,” Kagami’s lip curled mockingly.

Dark eyes narrowing dangerously, Aomine rolled over so that his body pressed Kagami’s deep into the bed. Making a place for himself between Kagami’s legs, he pushed his cock hard against his new consort’s. It was hot and rigid and painfully erect.

“Does this,” he punctuated the word with a thrust of his hips, “feel like a woman to you?”

Kagami’s heart thumped rapidly against his chest and his own penis began to stir, causing triumph to flare across Aomine’s face.

“Get off me,” he demanded hoarsely, bucking his hips in an attempt to throw the Prince off, but he only succeeded in rubbing their groins together.

“Make me,” Aomine whispered, his breath warm against Kagami’s lips.

Kagami, who had been appalled to find himself bound to the Prince’s bed when he awoke, desperately tried to force his body into submission. He had thought the initial attraction he had felt to this man had been snuffed out when Aomine had crudely fondled female slave’s breasts. Apparently it hadn’t. Though his heart and mind were still filled with rage and disgust, his body didn’t seem to care. He was both angry and mortified by his unwilling reaction.

“How can I do anything, chained to your bed like a dog?”

Aomine sat up, straddling Kagami’s waist, and rubbed his chin speculatively. “Do you really think you can overpower me, even if I were to remove your fetters?”

“I know I could,” there was deadly intent in Kagami’s quiet response.

With what could only be described as anticipation in his eyes, the Prince hopped off Kagami and nodded to the guards.

“Then come, little hellcat, let us see who is actually stronger.”

The guards clearly disapproved, but they were both mutes, a necessity since they watched over the most intimate parts of their ruler’s life, therefore they could only frown as they complied with Aomine’s unspoken order.

His chains were barely off a second before Kagami leaped to his feet, relieving one of the guards of his scimitar in the process. It was light and awkward, not like the heavy broadswords from home, but he could make do.

The other guard rushed forward, raising his own sword, but one word from Aomine stopped him.

“No, throw it here. I’ll take him on.”

Again, the guard showed his disapproval, but it was a direct command from the Prince. He tossed the weapon to Aomine, then stepped back as the Prince plucked it cleanly from the air.

Aomine tested the scimitar’s weight and smiled. With his other hand, he tauntingly motioned for Kagami to come at him.  Kagami’s wrath reached new levels at that provoking gesture. Opening his mouth, he bellowed, the bloodcurling, chilling call of Seirin’s warriors, and charged.

Sparks flew and the jarring clang of metal meeting metal rang through the air as their swords crossed. As was his nature, Kagami pushed aggressively forward, hacking and thrusting with the ferocity of a wild animal. Aomine’s fighting style was … strange. There was no rhyme or reason to how he attacked or defended. When every notion of sword fighting told Kagami that Aomine would strike from the right, the Prince would spin and stab from above. He was graceful and light on his feet, pushing Kagami further and further back. While Kagami had sheer, brute strength and an instinct that till now had been unmatched, Aomine’s unconventional moves messed up his rhythm.

Ah, but he felt alive, the thrill of battle vibrating through his blood. Thrust and parry, attack and retreat, the world around him blurred. The only thing in his field of sight was Aomine as he sought to conquer this bastard who had claimed him as a possession. However, the difference in their strength was soon all to obvious. Kagami was retreating more than he was advancing.

Frustrated, he put all his power behind one, final desperate strike, determined to bring the arrogant Prince to his knees, but Aomine deflected it. His sword spun out of his hand, leaving his fingers numb. The force of the blow made Aomine drop his scimitar, too. Seeing his last chance, Kagami rushed the Prince. Using the rough, brutal maneuvers that had been drilled into him since he was a child, he managed to push Aomine into the corner.

Elbow pressed murderously against Aomine’s throat, Kagami growled, “I could crush your windpipe without even blinking.”

“Could you?” the Prince cocked an eyebrow and, to Kagami’s shock, he grinned.

Before the warrior could decipher the reason for that inappropriate smile, his feet were swept out from beneath him. Kagami fell to the floor with jarring thud. He was in the process of attempting to catch his breath when he was manhandled onto his stomach, his arm twisted firmly but not painfully behind his back.

“Do you yield?” Aomine purred in his ear, rolling his hips languidly into Kagami’s backside.

He was still hard, no harder than before, as if their fight had served to strengthen his arousal. To Kagami’s dismay, his own cock was throbbing and swollen, the furious heat of the battle turning into a different kind of passion. He shifted, attempting to ease the pain in his dick, crushed as it was against the floor. Of course, that only pressed his ass harder against Aomine’s burning flesh.

“Do you yield?” the question was repeated and followed by teeth sinking gently into the vulnerable flesh of his ear.

Kagami shivered at the sensation, but shook his head vehemently. Even if his body was betraying him, his mind was not so easy to overcome. Prince Aomine was the worst kind of royalty, a man who bought and sold humans simply for his pleasure. He was also the one thing now standing between Kagami and his mission to save his people. The warrior of Seirin could not afford to give in.

“Let me go,” he heaved violently, hoping he could throw Aomine off his back. It didn’t work. Touou’s ruler simply sighed and tightened his grip on Kagami’s arm.

“That is the one thing I can’t do, little hellcat,” he murmured almost regretfully, “but I will grant you another request. For a small boon.”

“Then don’t touch me again.”

He could feel Aomine shake his head. “Anything but that.”

“Then don’t,” Kagami licked his lips, hating himself for his next request, “don’t chain me again.”

Begging was beneath him as a warrior, as the next King of Seirin, but he could not bear to be in shackles again. The people of the north were meant to be free, being locked up, having their hands and feet bound was worse than death to them.

Aomine’s hesitation was palpable. After several, long moments, he finally answered.

“I will agree to your request, but only if you swear not to commit violence upon me or anyone else in the palace. Unless, of course, I give you leave to do so.” His tone was firm and unyielding.

It was Kagami’s turn to hesitate. A warrior’s oath was his bond. To swear one thing and yet do another was the worst kind of sin, one that would garner a man or woman the title of “Oath-Breaker.” Though it might be excused in this instance, Kagami’s honor would not let him lie. But if he gave his oath, it would severely limit his opportunities for escape.

An intense, internal struggle followed until he finally closed his eyes and exhaled. “Fine. I swear not to hurt you or anyone else here, unless yo  _allow_  t," the statement tasted like ashes in his mouth, "but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to escape.”

He added the last part defiantly.

In a flash, Aomine’s weight lifted off Kagami’s back. The warrior had no time to be relieved. The Prince turned him over and immediately settled his body on top of Kagami’s again, putting them eye to eye, chest to chest, and groin to groin.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, and I look forward to thwarting your attempts,” Aomine locked his gaze on Kagami’s, searching for any hint of deception on that strong, masculine face. Satisfied with what he saw, his lips curved into a predatory smile. “Now, for the boon you owe me.”

Leaning down, he cupped Kagami’s face in his palms. It was almost too late before Kagami realized his intent. Raising his hands, he pushed hard against Aomine’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking my boon,” the Prince lowered his head again.

“Wait, wait!” the frantic, confused cry burst from Kagami’s lips. “I already gave you your boon by promising not to raise my hands against you or your people.”

Aomine rubbed his thumbs of Kagami’s face. “No, that was a non-negotiable requirement for your release from the chains. A kiss is the actual boon you must give for my generosity.”

Kagami couldn’t object to Aomine’s trickery. Before he could even take another breath, the Prince’s lips were on his, sealing them in a kiss that was intense and scorching and irresistible.

He thought to rebel against it, but Aomine’s hands on his face held his head firmly in place, helpless to the ravishing onslaught. When the Prince’s tongue slipped into his mouth, he unconsciously sucked on it, earning moan of approval from the other man. Aomine took Kagami’s action as a sign of surrender and began plunging his tongue in and out, tangling with Kagami’s, seducing the other’s tongue into his own mouth.

Wild and searing, the kiss went on and on. Small groans and growls rumbled in Kagami’s chest, and the hands that were pushing Aomine away were now pulling him close. Kagami may have been lost in the sensual storm forever if he hadn’t felt Aomine’s hand slide into his pantaloons and touch his now hairless prick.

It was like being dunked into the freezing waters of Angel’s Lake. Where he was, who he was, an  _who_  e was with all came rushing back. The man giving him all these exquisite feelings was the same man who now owned him, who kept him from carrying his father’s orders.

“Stop,” he panted, reaching down and circling his hand around Aomine’s wrist. His body protested, but he ignored it.

Reluctantly lifting his head, Aomine stared down at Kagami. “Why? You were enjoying my touch.”

He couldn’t deny it, so he turned his head away and clenched his free hand into a fist.

Aomine watched him a few more seconds and then dropped his forehead to Kagami’s temple with a groan. “I am not accustomed to denying myself, little hellcat.”

ldquo;Get used to it.” Kagami’s sharp response was weakened by the breathless quality of his voice. “And stop calling m  _hellcat_!”

“I think,” Aomine removed his hand from Kagami’s pants and drew it back up to the barbarian’s mouth, “ _not_. To both of your remarks.”

Kagami could smell his own musk on Aomine’s hand, and his face reddened.

“I could force your surrender,” the Prince murmured casually when Kagami stayed silent.

Turning his eyes back to Aomine’s, Kagami unflinchingly insisted, “And I would fight you.”

Aomine grinned slightly. “Hmm, but that could be enjoyable in its own right.”

The daring words caused Kagami to tense, preparing his body for the possible fight to come. It didn’t. Instead, Aomine rolled to his feet. Stance wide and arrogant, he peered down at Kagami with ingrained superiority, that almost evil smile back on his lips.

“Then, let us have breakfast, before I really do decide to ea  _you_  nstead.”

Scrambling up, Kagami made sure to leave a safe distance between them. He had to find a way out of this palace, out of Touou and away from the Prince. More might be at stake than just his duty to his people.

For his part, Aomine wondered if he had gone daft. It wasn’t like him to deny his desires, no matter what they were. He knew how people viewed him, knew how his physical attributes affected others. He was handsome and accomplished and the ruler of a whole bloody country. He could have anything he wanted with the snap of his fingers  _Well, almost anything_ , he thought with a heated look at Kagami.

Of course, it was only a matter of time until he had the barbarian, too, and he craved the challenge ahead of him almost as much as he looked forward to his victory.

TBC

 

 


End file.
